


I'll F**king Digest You, One Kiss at a Time

by crossroadswrite



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolves, M/M, Werewolf Dean Winchester, Werewolf Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 19:04:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4274541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/pseuds/crossroadswrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Alpha werewolf lolls out his tongue and strolls relaxed towards them. His eyes shine and it only occurs to Castiel now that he’s enjoying this. The blood rush, the thrill of the kill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll F**king Digest You, One Kiss at a Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [carrionofmywaywardson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carrionofmywaywardson/gifts).



> For carrionofmywaywardson, whom I had promised some werewolf!dean eons ago.
> 
> Title taken from [Lurk by the Neighborhood](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xfd7uYsKlBo).

Castiel is not allowed outside of the property grounds no matter what.

“What if the property catches on fire?” he questions his tutor.

“Jump in the lake out back and wait for someone to get you,” Uriel tells him dispassionately.

“I don’t understand why I must be confined here. What’s so dangerous outside that I can’t even look over the wall?”

“You know very well what is out there, Castiel. You were never dumb, do not pretend to be so.”

“I don’t believe werewolves to be as horrid as anyone within the walls of the property paint them to be,” he says defiantly.

A little over nineteen years inside the same house, the same confined grounds, the same watchful staff finally wearing on him. He wants to look outside, to see the ‘wolves and the rest of the entire world.

“They’re vicious, rabid _animals_ and should be put down as such.”

“Have you ever tried _talking_ to-“

“Talking?! Don’t be ridiculous, boy,” Uriel sneers, “There’s no talking with these creatures. The only language they understand is the barrel of a gun pressed between their eyes.”

“They’re still people,” he says, quieter now that he knows there is no way Uriel will listen to what he has to say.

Uriel shakes his head at him, “That kind of thinking is why you’re locked in here Castiel and not out there with the rest of them.”

“I wouldn’t want to be,” he says, holding his chin up high.

“And that,” Uriel says clinically, dispassionately, “is your problem. Go back to your books, Castiel. You’re not much use otherwise.”

Uriel leaves him alone in the library, with clenched fists and an impending sense of uselessness.

Maybe it’s about time for Castiel to make his escape, hop over the big walls around his little prison and actually _see_ the world for what it is.

He sets his jaw and goes to his desk, taking a handful of blank pages and picking up a pen. He starts making plans.

Many of his brothers have successfully escaped before. He won’t be the first or the last to do so.

«»

It takes him exactly two months to arrange everything without raising suspicion for what he’s thinking of doing.

In the end he has  a thick hood to protect him from whatever bad weather may come his way and provisions to last him at least until he reaches the closest village. If those are not enough he’ll have enough money to buy more.

He had briefly considered trying to escape at nighttime but had promptly decided that at night the property would be too quiet and he would’ve made far too much noise. The best time would be when the men would come back from their hunt, bringing deer and rabbit and if they were extremely ‘lucky’ a half turned werewolf carcass or even a young ‘wolf that was too stupid to run away.

That’s just what they did, hunt ‘wolves down and sometimes throw barely alive ones into cells and have _fun_ with them. The kind of fun that involved too sharp silver knives, aconite and acid.

Castiel had his reasons to want to get away as fast as he possibly could. Lucifer had done it, closely followed by Michael and then Gabriel and Balthazar. Castiel took pride in being just that inch smarter than most of them so this should’ve been a cakewalk for him.

Except, of course, his life could never be made easy and in his wisdom he had to pass through the kennels with the ‘wolves at the far edge of the property and slide through the back door there.

He really should’ve known better than to go anywhere near the kennels.

There’s a young wolf curled into a corner, a cut on his side steadily bleeding and he stinks of something rotten.

He’s the last ‘wolf they have in captivity, they killed the last one off just yesterday.

“Are you okay?” and that’s a mistake.

Saying words like that are probably a mistake for something as dangerous and wounded as that werewolf probably is but then again Castiel has always advocated for trying to talk first and shooting later.

The boy, that can’t really be more than fifteen, only four years younger than Cas himself, snaps his head up, eyes going wide and scared even as he bares his fangs and lets out a low growl.

Cas takes a step closer and eyes the keys to the locks that are just mere feet away from him, dangling tantalizingly from the hooks on the wall.

“I- I could let you go, but you have to promise not to hurt me.”

“Is this some kind of game?” the boy edges, clearly distrusting of Castiel’s words.

“No,” he shakes his head for emphasis, “no, I’m not like them. I don’t want to hurt you.”

The young werewolf raises a skeptical eyebrow but he’s not growling anymore, “You’re not lying.”

He slowly uncurls from the corner and moves towards him, limping slightly and pants torn and filthy.

“What’s your name?” he asks when he’s close enough.

“Castiel.”

“I’m Sam.”

“Hello, Sam.”

“Are you really going to let me go?”

Castiel moves towards the keys in the hook quickly, already having setback his escape plan by precious minutes, “Yes.”

He puts the key in the lock and turns, hoping he’s not committing a horrible mistake, but Sam has kind eyes and he doesn’t think he’ll be in any danger.

“You should hurry, if my brother finds me-“

A loud high pitched scream comes somewhere from the front of the property, followed by louder sounds of panic.

“Oh no,” Sam breathes out, pushing against the door and Castiel turns the key that last bit so it falls open easily.

“What’s happening?” Castiel inquires just as another gut curling scream rings out.

“My brother found me,” Sam’s throat clicks, eyes wide with fear, “We should go, we should go right _now!”_

“People need help,” Cas argues, dropping his basket of supplies on the ground and running towards the screaming.

“Castiel, don’t!” Sam calls out.

Castiel should’ve listened. Uriel always says he doesn’t listen enough, is too rebellious, too disobedient and that would be his falling someday.

He had never even acknowledged that Uriel might’ve been even slightly right.

He should’ve listened.

Castiel rounds the corner to the front of the property to see chaos.

People are running around in a panic, the guards have their guns pointed to the center of the mess where a big hulking mass of a monster stands, howling and snapping its teeth at anything that comes within its reach.

The monster bats someone with a paw as big as Castiel’s head mindlessly, knocking them a good couple of feet away. If he had been closer Castiel would’ve been able to hear the sickening crunch of bones against a hard surface.

It looks like a wolf, somewhat. It’s bigger than any wolf has any right to be and it’s features are somewhat humanoid if you squint. Just the shape of its paws that are too long and can _hold_ , the way his eyes are smart and aware and the silver glinting of an earring in one of its ears. It’s in how the bulk of its front paws are so much bigger than that of his hind paws.

Castiel has heard about this, has read it in books and seen not so accurate portraits of what his eyes are witnessing right now.

An Alpha werewolf.

Bigger, faster, more ruthless, deathlier.

The wolf howls again, looking around and ripping its way through the property with claws and teeth.

Another howl echoes too close to Castiel’s side and he turns to see Sam, head thrown back and fangs dropped, eyes glowing gold.

A Beta then, your average werewolf, although he looks too skinny to be a beta. If Castiel had taken a wild guess, he’d have said Omega.

“That’s your brother,” Castiel states in disbelief, watching it crush one of the guards with its paw carelessly as it- _he_ makes the trek towards them, eyes focused on Sam.

Uriel steps in front of the beast and aims his riffle at it, it’s loaded up with aconite, Castiel knows.

Sam’s brother stops in front of Uriel, hulking impossibly threatening above him and Uriel fires.

The Alpha merely grunts at impact, advancing on Uriel and snapping his muzzle across his middle, shaking once in a jerky harsh move that has blood splattering across the floor.

Uriel barely has time to let out a blood curling scream before he’s torn in two, guts ripped and spilling out of the werewolves’ mouth, who promptly spits its victim out like he just tasted something _foul_.

Castiel claps a hand over his mouth roughly, keeping the quiet whimpers that seem to want to come out in. He takes a step back and considers making a run for it.

The werewolf licks its muzzle meanly, turning to look down at the bodies littering the front yard before he turns back to Sam and Castiel.

The ones that could’ve run away already did. No one dared to stay and fight, not after Uriel stopped giving orders and was brutally murdered.

The Alpha werewolf lolls out his tongue and strolls relaxed towards them. His eyes shine and it only occurs to Castiel now that he’s _enjoying this_. The blood rush, the thrill of the kill.

Sam takes a step towards Cas and puts an arm around him, “Dean this is Cas. He helped me.”

 _Dean_ struts forwards and leans down enough to be almost eyelevel to them, he licks his bloody muzzle and huffs hot breath over Castiel’s face, before swaying forward and starting to snuffle around him curiously.

He’s too close, his teeth are too close to Castiel’s throat for him to be completely comfortable, but then Dean blinks big green eyes at him and those eyes are excited, almost playful.

He yips and licks wetly from the base of Castiel’s neck up to his cheek and temple, slobbering him up.

Sam carefully removes his arm, “He likes you.”

Dean throws him on the floor with a paw and moves to hover on top of him.

“I’d like to counter that statement,” Castiel swallows, throat clicking as he tips his head back.

Dean makes a rumbling sound and shoves his muzzle against his throat, nipping and licking and Castiel has read about this too.

 _Scent marking_.

It’s a bit more aggressive than what his books had led him to believe, but then again there is so little they know about werewolves that Castiel really can’t take the words of books at face value.

Dean sits back on his haunches and lets Castiel up a little, tilting his head at him curiously.

He looks at Sam for a solid moment and it’s almost like those two communicate telepathically because after a second Sam is nodding his head with a slight frown and pushing Cas towards Dean who has lowered himself onto the floor.

“What are you doing,” Castiel questions, somewhat alarmed.

“You’re coming with us. Dean wants to, um, get more acquainted with you.”

For some reason Castile really doesn’t like the sound of those words but he dutifully lets Sam push him towards the laying wolf.

He does not want to test his fate when he is among werewolves.

Castiel ends up straddling Dean, hands fisted loosely on his fur when the beast lifts himself up and starts strolling out of the blood soaked earth that he left behind.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Back to the pack.”

“Ah,” he says.

It occurs to him that he’ll have a privileged position to observe and study werewolves, if they don’t eat him first. By the way Dean is keeping his pace slow and calm like he’s taking a walk in the park, he doesn’t believe they will.

“Does Dean have a human form?” he asks curiously.

“Obviously. He’ll change back when he feels we’re safe enough.”

Castiel nods in acknowledgement and hangs on a little tighter to Dean’s fur, resists the temptation to run his fingers through it and _pet him_ for a grand total of seven minutes.

Dean doesn’t really seem to mind if the way his tail starts swishing slow and pleased behind him is any indication.

He’s not quite sure how long they walk, but it must be hours before they reach a somewhere Dean deems safe enough, surrounded by woods and away from any path Castiel has knowledge of.

Then he lowers himself to the floor in a clear indication that it’s time for Castiel to get down from his back.

“Are we far enough?”

“Yes,” Sam nods, rolling his shoulders and grimacing a little bit, “The pack isn’t too far from here. Dean is probably going to change back and walk with us on two feet from now on.

Castiel turns his eyes to where Dean’s frame is shaking, the crunch of bones dislocating and readjusting sickening to his ears, but he doesn’t look away. The fur slowly starts to disappear until it smooths down into skin and there’s a man crouched and panting slightly in front of them.

He slowly levers himself up, body streaked with blood where his fur have been, eyes still shining a brilliant green and smirk fixed in place.

“Hey there,” he greets in a melodic voice, not at all like the deep grave rumble of someone who didn’t use their voice often that Castiel expected.

“Hello.”

Dean grins and strides forward towards Castiel and suddenly he’s made very _very_ aware that Dean is naked and maybe a little too close.

Castile hastily looks away, trying to preserve his sense of modesty, reminding himself that it isn’t polite to stare.

“I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself back there,” Dean says nonchalantly, lips tinted with blood and his hair matted with it.

He’s standing there in front of Cas, blood sprinkled all over his skin and butt-naked but with the ease of a man that is sure of himself, knows what he wants and is damn well going to get it.

“I’m Dean.”

“Castiel,” he introduces himself, offering Dean his hand.

Dean looks at it for a second, seemingly amused before he takes it, gives a firm shake and pulls Castiel flush against his body.

One of his big hands cradles Castiel’s jaw and gently turns it so the long expanse of his throat is on display. He leans forward and noses at his, touches his lips over his pulse point and Castiel can feel the grin pressed there.

“Say, Cas – can I call you Cas – has everyone ever told you that you smell so pretty?”

“N-no,” he stutters, hoping that he’s not blushing.

“What a shame,” Dean says like it’s a tragedy, “Look pretty too,” he hums thoughtfully.

“Dean do you have to do this here,” Sam’s asks, sounding a little bit annoyed.

“Give me a moment to get to know our new pack member, Sammy.”

“New- new pack member?” Cas asks, thoroughly confused.

“Sure,” Dean says easily, “You’ve saved my brother, and I have been looking for a mate for quite some time, you seem like you will fit the role,” he breathes in deep, touches his tongue to Cas’s neck in a long thorough swipe, “just perfectly.”

“What if I say no,” he dares.

Dean pulls back and faces him, uses the hand that’s holding his chin still to press a thumb over Cas’ lips.

“You won’t. You’re mine now. I’ll make sure you won’t.”

Castiel wanted to get out of the walls and see the world, understand and judge things for his own.

He gets to do that, but he also gets to become an Alpha’s mate somewhere along the process, even if it does take him a while to get used to the murder sprees the mood Dean’s in afterwards is absolutely worth it.

(So’s the sex in case you were wondering.)

**Author's Note:**

> i'm so sorry this sucks


End file.
